


There's something about Ringo

by EbethBeatlebub



Series: Starrison Ficlets [1]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Crushes, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sexuality Crisis, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26290759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbethBeatlebub/pseuds/EbethBeatlebub
Summary: There's something about Ringo, and George is literally falling apart over it because whatever it is, it's affecting his playing. And his body, mind and probably his damn soul too, while we're at it. It's got to the point where he can't sleep one night, and as it happens, the drummer in question is still asleep in the bar...
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr
Series: Starrison Ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006020
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	There's something about Ringo

He couldn't do it. He just couldn't do it. There he was, drunk and half asleep, kicking back with his legs up on a table, watching them perform a piss poor rendition of a song he'd requested. George could probably blame his playing on the fact they were all tired and didn't know the song well, but the fact he totally lost his cool over that guy made it worse. As the band finished up, this time for real (that Richard guy had fallen asleep at last), George wasted no time in leaping off the stage and hurrying away, not willing to be in the same room as him for much longer, lest his fatigue get the better of his common sense. Paul was quick behind him, catching him by the shoulder. He was just as tired and sweaty, but he looked a bit more irate than usual. 

"Wha?" George grumbled, jerking his shoulder away. 

Paul pursed his lips together, a real bitchy look in his eye, "Mate, whatever bloody problem you got with that hurricanes drummer, you better sort it out," he cut to the chase. His tone was more civil than his demeanour, but his words sent warning signals off in George's head. How much did Paul  _ know?  _

" _ Problems _ ?" he barked, eyebrows coming together into a monobrow, "you've gone soft mate, I ain't got any problems with 'im. Hardly know the bloke," 

He swivelled on his foot, rolling his eyes. Paul grabbed him by the back of his pants and yanked him to a stop. George, not in the mood, groaned and kept trying to get away. 

" _ Sure _ you don't," Paul rolled his own eyes, "Geo, you were playing worse than  _ Stuart.  _ Yer  _ mum  _ could've played better. You got the wrong head working overtime. Get a hold of yerself, mate," 

Cold water; that's what George felt like was doused all over him in that moment. He gave Paul an evil eye. God damn him and his bloody  _ nerve _ , going around assuming just cos  _ he's  _ in bed with blokes (John) it means every-bloody-one's secretly queer too. He pushed Paul back with a foot and stormed off. 

John, back from the loo and just in time to catch the end of  _ that  _ whole mess, slid up behind Paul. 

"In denial, that boy," he muttered, pulling out some fags from his pocket, holding one up for Paul who took it without straying his gaze from George's figure off down the hall. 

"He's gonna have to face it," he replied, lighting up his smoke on John's now lit one, "Or one of us is gonna have to kick his arse," 

**

That night George couldn't sleep. Of course that wasn't unusual, what with being subject to the smell of ungodly amounts of sweat, piss, and general  _ man  _ smell, courtesy of the loos next-door and his fellow occupants (his own and another band who'd been forced to share). He got up and attempted to find his way out of the damn place, even if just to sit in the empty bar for some better air. However when he got there, it appeared the bar wasn't  _ quite  _ empty. He stumbled upon that Ringo bloke, still out cold on the same old seat. It was like no one had come around to check the place was empty before locking up. 

He squinted to see in the dismal lighting, taking in the tough looking, slightly older man. He didn't look so tough when he was asleep like that, though, and he couldn't possibly be comfortable in that position. He pondered whether to move him or not. On the one hand, he might sleep better if he wasn't at that stupid angle. On the other hand, he might wake him up and god only knew what he'd be in for if  _ that  _ happened. 

Ringo shifted a bit, his snoring abruptly halting, before softly starting again. Well. There was the stupid angle fixed.... 

So... Why was George still standing there staring at him? Paul's voice kept annoyingly playing in his head, and that cold feeling took him over again. What the bloody hell was going on? He'd felt intimidated by and idolised others before, but this was quite the different case. He knows this feeling but can't place what's  _ wrong  _ about it this time... 

The drummer shifted again, his face more visible in a slim sliver of illumination. George loved that cool grey streak in his hair. It made him look so grown up. He had such nice eyes too, even when closed, and George couldn't count the times he'd broken into a smile whenever Ringo did too. He wondered if those lips were warm... 

_ Hold on there _ ... 

He shook himself, scowling at his inner conflict. He rubbed at his arms, glaring daggers at the floor. This was weird. This was weird and gross and he had to shake himself off again. This couldn't  _ possibly  _ be happening right? He stole a peak at the sleeping drummer again, dark eyes connecting with blue ones-  _ Oh.  _

He wasn't asleep any more. 

George recoiled, backing up too fast and managing to trip over onto his ass. Ringo was still completely out of it, but the thud made him jolt upwards. He shook his head, blinking a bit and then let his eyes adjust to the dark. There on the floor, crawling away through the darkness was what appeared to be one of them Beatles lads. He stiffly got up and called softly out to him. 

"Hmmph, whas th'bloody time?" he cracked his neck and shoulders, wincing as he did. 

George paused in his failed getaway and turned to look back. So he  _ had  _ been seen after all.  _ Shit.  _ He got up, brushed his hands off on his pants and mumbled a simple  _ 'dunno'.  _ He seemed to be not knowing  _ a lot  _ lately. Ringo didn't seem to mind, but then when he realised it was so late the place would be locked, thus trapping him in for the night, he groaned softly. He plopped back down onto his seat and ran a tired hand through his hair. 

George's chest leapt. He didn't know what to do now. The drummer glanced up and they shared an intense stare for a bit. 

"Well, don't just stand there, come on, have a seat at least," he said finally, beckoning the poor lad over. George felt ill but complied, finding it hard to resist the opportunity to be closer, but fearing what it meant all the same. He sat down not  _ too  _ close, just for good measure. Ringo was picking up on the guitarist's awkwardness and felt bad. Probably scared of him no doubt, lots of younger blokes were. Pity, too, as he fancied himself a rather friendly person, really. He recognised this one, this beatle, as George. He'd always enjoyed watching him on the stage. John and the rest were good, but George was just so damn cute. He did these stupid little dances with just his legs, and his face was way too fearsome for a bloke so young. It was endearing but Ringo dared not ever vocalise that, knowing full well what'd happen (both to himself AND the poor lad's pride). To ease his nerves, he flashed a smile at him, baring the best tired but contented smile he could manage. George immediately responded with a crooked vampire grin, and both men laughed a little. Since he was up anyway, Ringo pulled out some smokes from his pocket. He offered one to George who took it with visibly shaky hands. He snuck a peek at his face to try to gauge the situation. He didn't seem to be annoying him or anything. This was...  _ good.  _

After a bit of stuffing around trying to light the damn smokes, hard to do with what little coordination both had due to their varied states of awareness and such, they just sat in silence together. Occasionally they'd turn to look at one another and Ringo would smile, receiving a bigger and brighter one in return. Whatever the poor lad was feeling earlier, surely he felt better now, Ringo told himself. He had a suspicion about what the big deal might be. George reminded him of himself back when he'd initially gotten a taste for the  _ wrong  _ side of the sexes. Not that he personally saw what the big deal was. He kept to himself about it though, knew what was good for him, but all the rules and shite over it seemed like a waste of energy and time. Plus, it made for a bloody scary time for younger people, not knowing what the hell was going on. George seemed a bit more relaxed now and appeared to be nodding off. Maybe he should go back to-

Oh, wait. The beatles were sleeping in that oversized toilet, weren't they? Ringo glanced around the club. Well, if no one was around to tell  _ him  _ he couldn't sleep out here, then maybe George could too... Better than where he  _ could  _ be anyway. 

He softly smiled one more time when he looked back. Poor thing was out. He'd become so relaxed and content that his nerves and over thinking had drifted away to bother him another day. His cigarette  _ wasn't _ out though, so the drummer reached over to put it out for him. He then stopped to consider whether he should go to another seat, or stick to the same one. He didn't want him to get cold, but would he freak out if he woke up next to another bloke? He was still too tired to make much of a move, so he scooted just a bit further away, but not before at least taking off his jacket and popping it over the sleeping guitarist.

"You'll figure it all out, mate," he said softly, "You'll see," 

He then curled up again, put out his own cigarette, and drifted off again. 

**

The next morning, George woke up with a stiff neck, a stiff back and a stiff  _ stiffy.  _ Well, not exactly surprising, given the weird dream he'd had about- 

_ OhGodRingoWasLyingHisHeadOnHisShoulder _

He felt hot and cold all over and if it wasn't for his  _ fear _ he'd have moved away. The drummer at some point in his sleep had inadvertently shifted along and ended up using George's bony shoulder as a pillow. George also noticed the jacket draped across himself and his face went red to the ears. Such a compromising position... If it weren't for their location he'd have worried his dream had actually  _ happened  _ (but they weren't in Liverpool, or his parent's car for that matter, so it was safe). However he didn't know if this wasn't  _ just  _ as bad, should anyone catch them. 

Just as he thought his luck couldn't get much worse, the sound of slow, smug clapping came from across the room. George felt his heart stop as he whipped up his head to find  _ stupid  _ Paul and John standing there with shit eating grins, clapping sarcastically at the sight before them. Ringo woke up from the sound of the clapping, and lifted up his head suddenly, nearly knocking George's. 

" _ HMMPH,  _ ohhh.." he groaned, rubbing his neck, "whas th'bloody  _ time?"  _ he mumbled...  _ again.  _

"Time to wake up,  _ lovebirds _ ," John smirked. George scowled at him but made no movement or comment. 

"Have a nice sleep, didja?" Paul added, stirring the pot. 

Ringo, suddenly aware of the situation, got up. He was totally willing to play it off as an accident (which it was), but George in a fit of rebellion _ ,  _ retorted, "At least I  _ could  _ sleep. Better than listenin' to you two shaggin' all night like no one's there," 

John and Paul's eyes widened, and they all of a sudden had shit to do and places to go. George smirked triumphantly, then turned to Ringo. The drummer was chuckling, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He looked down at the still sitting lad. 

"Well," he chuckled, "never a dull moment with you lot, is there?" 

George smiled back, "Nah... not a one,"

The two sighed, then shared another rather intense look (best they could after just having woken up). 

"So, see you later tonight, then?" Ringo put it out there. George was free to take it any way he wanted to. George, after the nice sort of moment they'd shared last night, felt a lot less bad about this whole situation. He cracked a bigger grin and replied 

"You'd  _ better," _

That night he felt he'd be playing a  _ lot  _ better,

"I'll be putting on the best show you've ever  _ seen,"  _

And? He did.

**Author's Note:**

> I know George was seventeen in Hamburg, so I decided to not have them become a couple or to resolve any of the romantic tension, because well, obviously he'd be underage, and also it's more realistic that it'd be just a crush at that point. Ringo is just endeared by him at this point too. Also John and Paul totally thought they were being sneaky, but we all know John's a loud bastard 😂


End file.
